Chapter 67

Ling Qingxiao had never thought in this direction before. But now, with that layer of glass finally broken, it was like clouds parting to reveal the moon—suddenly everything was clear.
Of course. So many things had already hinted at it.
When he first arrived in the Middle Era and saw its flourishing vitality, its gods and paths to divinity thriving, his first reaction hadn’t been to seek out forbidden techniques. No—his first thought was: Would Luo Han want to stay here? Would she still want to return?
Yesterday, when Luo Han went into the mountains to gather herbs and he woke up to find her gone, half his heart went cold.
She wouldn’t have been in any real danger. Even friends needed their own space. When they were in Da Ming City, Ye Zinan and Zou Jibai—his teammates—often went out alone, and he had never thought twice about it. Da Ming City had been far more dangerous than this. But Luo Han was different.
Luo Han was right—she’d reach a point where she could face everything on her own, without needing anyone at her side.
When she first arrived, she didn’t know the area, didn’t understand cultivation methods, didn’t know the customs of this world. So, wherever she went, Ling Qingxiao went with her. They were inseparable, always bound together. But now she was growing, gradually stepping out of that pairing.
And suddenly, he was the one who couldn’t adjust.
This wasn’t how friends felt.
Because if it were just friendship, why would seeing her grow independent make him feel...uneasy?
Ling Qingxiao didn’t know how to deal with these inexplicable emotions. Until this morning, when a young man openly showed interest in Luo Han, and he’d felt instant irritation—when the chief referred to them as a “family” and he’d felt a flicker of happiness—it all became too obvious.
His feelings for Luo Han had long since gone beyond friendship. This was something ancient, primal, instinctive—a man’s feelings for a woman.
When Ling Qingxiao finally realized this, even he was stunned.
He had never imagined he’d feel this way about anyone. He had thought his life would be one of solitude—no affection, no companionship, no family. Just an empty, silent existence.
At first, yes, it had been about responsibility. She’d saved his life with her medicine. He hadn’t asked for it, but she had saved him, and that meant he owed her.
Then they’d gone to the Biyun Secret Realm together, returned to Zhong Mountain together, faced the Western Sea together. The more they experienced side by side, the closer they grew. She had become his friend—his only friend.
But...he was her one of many.
On the airship to Western Sea, when he saw her chatting and laughing with Zou Jibai, it felt like a nightmare repeating itself. He had always known he wasn’t someone people liked—too cold, too serious, no charm, no humor. He didn’t care how others saw him.
But with her, it mattered.
Because she was his only consolation, the one grace life had given him after all the cruelty he had endured. And gradually, what started as responsibility had twisted into possessiveness. He’d thought maybe that was a byproduct of his upbringing—that he hadn’t grown up in a home with love or trust, so he didn’t know how to build healthy relationships.
Maybe his desire for connection was...broken.
But over time, more and more things proved it wasn’t just friendship.
Ling Qingxiao had never faced anything like this. He didn’t know how to handle it. There were no references in his books, no guidance in his life. He was sure—absolutely certain—that Luo Han didn’t feel the same. That this was only his delusion.
A wild, shameful fantasy.
This was the first time in his life that he had wanted something for himself. He had always been passive—passively received, passively endured. He’d built walls around his world, just asking not to be disturbed. He didn’t care who became head of the clan, who inherited the family name, who claimed wealth or glory. Let them fight.
But this time, for the first time, he wanted something.
And because he wanted it so badly, he was afraid. Terrified of what Luo Han might think if she knew.
She was only nineteen.
And he was already a thousand years old.
A hundredfold difference. How revolting must that seem? If she knew what he was thinking, how would she see him?
To Ling Qingxiao, the age gap wasn’t the problem. In the immortal world, age differences were normal. Ten thousand years between partners wasn’t uncommon. He and Ye Zinan had decades between them, but they spoke as equals.
He didn’t care about age—but with Luo Han, he couldn’t risk it.
Maybe...maybe after a few centuries, once she was used to the immortal world, used to the idea of long-lived couples...maybe then she wouldn’t care either. One day, when both of them counted their ages in tens of thousands, a thousand years wouldn’t seem like much.
Ling Qingxiao was patient. If she didn’t accept him now, he could wait. A thousand years, ten thousand—he’d wait until the day she could.
Yes, feeling this way about someone so young might seem inappropriate. But to him, it wasn’t a true barrier.
What was, was the fear that she would never accept his feelings.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t even hope for her to return them. He just wanted her to accept them—to accept him.
That was the nightmare he hid the deepest: that no matter what he did, no matter how much he grew or improved, it still wouldn’t be enough for someone to choose him.
He’d thought about it honestly. Evaluated himself as fairly as he could: dull personality, poor conversationalist, rigid, humorless, and yes—far too old.
But Luo Han—Luo Han was the opposite of all that. Young and bright, clever and brave. The youngest divine being in the Six Realms. Radiant by nature. Elders like Gu Xing and the village chief adored her. So did her peers, like Zou Jibai and even that brat Wu Lang.
Of course they liked her.
Who wouldn’t?
In the blink of an eye, Ling Qingxiao went from sudden realization, to guilt, to anxiety and longing—his thoughts looping and spiraling, a veritable emotional rollercoaster. Luo Han, of course, had no idea that the man in front of her, outwardly calm and composed, was mentally acting out an entire drama. She simply offered her honest advice:
“You trust people too easily. That’s not good. Just because you wouldn’t take advantage of someone when they’re vulnerable doesn’t mean others won’t. From now on, don’t go showing your life point so easily.”
When she finished, she noticed Ling Qingxiao didn’t respond.
Luo Han frowned and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey, are you even listening?”
Ling Qingxiao blinked and instinctively caught her wrist. They’d grown used to this level of physical contact during their time living together, but for some reason, this time, the moment he touched her, he flinched like he’d been burned and quickly let go.
Luo Han didn’t think much of it. She knew he wasn’t fond of physical contact. What caught her attention instead was how distracted he’d been lately. She could space out for hours, sure, but Ling Qingxiao? The man who saw daydreaming as the enemy of efficiency? Something was definitely off.
“What were you thinking about just now?” she asked. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately. Why?”
Facing her clear, trusting gaze, Ling Qingxiao struggled to respond. He was deeply ashamed. How could he admit to harboring those kinds of thoughts about her?
Carrying both guilt and a secret, selfish longing, he hesitated, then tested the waters:
“I was thinking about our agreement. The truth is, trading labor for debt repayment wasn’t a very fair deal. The Bodhi Essence is priceless—immeasurable, really—and yet I’m paying it off using time. No boundaries, no conditions, just a duration. It’s not rigorous. Besides...it might not need to be a thousand years.”
The moment she heard that, every alarm in Luo Han’s mind blared. There it is. She’d known it had been too easy convincing him back then. He was the story’s IQ ceiling, a man who nearly wiped out the main cast—how could she have possibly tricked him into a thousand-year promise with just a few lines? Of course he’d realize the terms were unfair and want to back out.
She was doomed.
That agreement had never been more than a verbal one. If Ling Qingxiao decided to break it, she had absolutely no way to stop him.
Luo Han squared her shoulders and said solemnly, “No. No regrets. A promise is a promise. A thousand years means a thousand years—not a day more or less.”
She assumed he was just tired of dragging her around and wanted to bow out early. She quickly reassured him: “Don’t worry. We agreed from the start this was a business arrangement, not personal. Once the time’s up, we’ll part ways peacefully—no drama, no grudges.”
Ling Qingxiao had been just about to say it didn’t have to be a thousand years, that there didn’t even need to be a time limit—but when he heard what she said, he swallowed the words.
He was silent for a long moment.
“When we made that agreement,” he said, “neither of us made a Heart-Demon Oath. There’s no real constraint. What if I broke the promise?”
“You wouldn’t,” Luo Han replied instantly.
She was worried, but she had no choice. She just had to keep flattering him and acting like she completely trusted his character. Maybe if she said it enough, he’d feel too guilty to back out.
“You’re not like others,” she said firmly. “You’re the most honorable person I’ve ever met. Some contracts need magic oaths, but not with you. I trust you.”
And that—that silenced Ling Qingxiao completely.
She said it with such certainty, looked at him with such pure trust...he didn’t even know what to say.
“…Forget it,” he sighed at last. He, who prided himself on logic and structure, was now dodging the topic with vague delay tactics—something he would’ve scoffed at from anyone else. “There’s still time. We’ll figure it out later.”
·
Ever since that conversation, the air between them had been off. Polite, yes. Thoughtful, even. But no longer as open or easy as before. It felt like an invisible wall had risen between them. They couldn’t talk like they used to. Couldn’t trust like before.
Days passed peacefully. Luo Han lived like a retiree: morning strolls, early nights, occasional foraging, helping around the village fields. Very peaceful, very stable. Ling Qingxiao’s wounds improved rapidly. By the tenth day, his external injuries were completely healed. The village chief checked his pulse and said he could stop the outer injury meds and just focus on stabilizing his inner wounds.
No need to overmedicate.
That night, Luo Han brought him another dose. After he drank it, she helped guide his spiritual energy as usual. He didn’t need her to anymore—his meridians were flowing fine—but since he hadn’t said anything, and it wasn’t much trouble for her, she continued.
They sat quietly in the room, Luo Han’s hand over his as she focused on his energy flow. Outside, the wind picked up. Soon, the rain followed.
The storm hit hard. Rain lashed at the eaves with loud, erratic tapping. A loose window banged open, slamming against the wall with a sharp crack.
Both of them opened their eyes. In the silent room, the sound was jarring.
“I’ll close it,” Luo Han said, starting to withdraw her hand.
And then—crack!
A bolt of thunder split the sky.
The beasts and elements of the Middle Era were more intense than anything in the modern world. Even the storms were more extreme. The thunder wasn’t just loud—it shook the earth.
Amid the thunder, Ling Qingxiao suddenly caught an unusual disturbance. His expression changed instantly. Without stopping to explain, he quickly shifted their joined palms to an interlocked grip and pulled Luo Han toward him.
Luo Han hadn’t expected the sudden movement. Unbalanced, she tumbled backward.
Ling Qingxiao caught her just in time, shielding her head with his hand as she fell onto the bed. The back of her head landed safely in his palm, cushioning the impact. The room was already dim, and the single small lamp on the table had blown out when the window slammed open. With no light source, and the bed surrounded by gauzy curtains, everything was even darker.
Flat on the bed, Luo Han was thoroughly thrown off. Ling Qingxiao’s hand cradled her head, and his fingers were still entwined with hers. At such close range, she didn’t even need to refocus—his face was right there, large and striking before her eyes.
Nighttime always made things feel more emotional, and attractive features appeared even more striking in the shadows. Especially with a strong bone structure—the dim light blurred away superficial details, letting bone lines speak for themselves. Ling Qingxiao had one of the finest. With star-bright eyes, a defined jaw, and a nose like a sculpted ridge, even in the dark he radiated brilliance.
Luo Han lay there, not moving a muscle. Her mind had short-circuited. Alone, late at night, a man and a woman, pressed close together on a bed...Surely her imagination wasn’t that indecent? Right?
Just as she tried to speak, Ling Qingxiao gestured for silence.
Luo Han froze completely. Like a puppet, she stayed still and silent.
She was still confused when her ears finally picked up the subtle sounds from outside. It was raining heavily, and with the window open, it was easy to miss faint noises. But now that the thunder had paused, she could hear it.
Her heart jerked—then slowly settled again. So...she’d misunderstood. Ling Qingxiao wasn’t thinking anything improper; he’d just heard something suspicious outside.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t care about appearances right now. He was fully focused on the activity outside.
He’d set up a natural formation around the courtyard using stones, tree branches, and plants—just enough to form a basic ward. The formation used no spellcraft, only natural materials, so if someone saw it, he could pass it off as coincidence. It wasn’t detectable unless someone already knew what to look for.
Usually it lay dormant—but the moment someone approached the courtyard, he would know.
Ling Qingxiao’s gaze sharpened as he zeroed in on the sounds. Two figures were approaching. Their aura was heavily masked—likely through some stealth technique—and if not for the formation, they would have slipped by unnoticed. The rain also gave them cover.
Once he had a read on their presence, Ling Qingxiao finally returned his attention to their...current position.
And immediately felt awkward.
He’d already been in a similar situation in Da Ming City—at the time, he hadn’t realized his own feelings and had still gotten far too close. He’d sworn afterward to avoid anything that might cause misunderstandings. Yet here he was again.
Even if he knew this wasn’t intentional, it still looked bad. Very bad.
Ling Qingxiao’s hand was under her head, so he slowly loosened the other hand first. He raised two fingers in front of her, indicating there were two people outside.
Luo Han, understanding the gesture, didn’t move. She nodded slightly to show she understood.
The two intruders were now inside the courtyard.
Through the rain, they heard a soft thud—someone had landed. A sickly-sweet scent wafted in on the wind.
Luo Han tensed. She recognized the smell immediately. Without waiting for instructions, she reached into her storage ring and pulled out an anti-toxin mask, quickly covering her face.
Whoever these intruders were, they clearly meant harm. After waiting a while—probably to let the sedative mist do its job—two masked figures quietly slipped in through the window. The room looked empty, dark and quiet. The only visible shape was the bed, shrouded in gauze.
They exchanged glances and crept forward, daggers in hand.
Step by step, they approached.
Then—one of them flung aside the bed curtain.
And found...nothing.
Before he could react, a sharp glint of silver shot through the air, piercing the back of his skull.
He dropped dead without a sound.
His companion’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even figured out where the attack had come from before a flash of icy blade cut clean across his throat.
The second attacker fell silently, eyes still open, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
From a concealed corner of the room, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao stepped out.
Luo Han extended her hand, and a silver needle—her ice-imbued concealed weapon—flew back to her palm. She looked at it admiringly.
“These are so good for sneak attacks.”
Ling Qingxiao wasn’t paying attention. He crouched beside the corpses and pulled down their masks. His brows furrowed.
“They’re demons.”
Luo Han’s heart jumped. She quickly joined him.
“Demons? What were they trying to do?”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t answer immediately. His hands moved fast, rifling through the bodies. As expected, there were no tokens or identifiable insignias—but he did find two bamboo canisters and a vial of liquid.
His eyes narrowed.
“…This is bad. Others are in danger.”
These two were clearly part of a larger group. Trained, well-equipped, masked, and armed with poison and antidotes—this wasn’t a random attack.
If other villagers were similarly targeted…
They didn’t even stop to deal with the corpses. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao rushed out into the rain. Whatever the demons were planning, sneaking in under cover of a storm and sedating their victims before silently killing them—there was no way that ended well.
Their courtyard was on the edge of the village. Most likely, they’d been hit first. Hopefully, the rest hadn’t already fallen.
They rushed to the nearest home, arriving just in time to see the demons strike.
This was a family of five. The mother and children had already been knocked out by the sleeping mist. Only the father, Zhao, had sensed something wrong and forced himself awake, stumbling upon the demons as they prepared to kill.
He fought desperately, but he had inhaled too much of the mist. His limbs were weak and powerless—he was no match for the two demon attackers. Zhao’s heart was filled with despair. If he died, so be it, but his children were still so young. They hadn’t even seen the world outside. How could they die like this?
One of the demons deemed Zhao too feeble to be a threat and left him, turning instead to kill the sleeping family members. Zhao watched, helpless, as the demon raised a blade over his daughter’s peaceful, sleeping form. She looked like she was dreaming sweetly, unaware that death loomed inches away.
Then, just as the blade was about to strike, it stopped mid-air.
It was as if an invisible force had blocked it.
A moment later, two sword lights flashed in from outside the house, flying directly at the demons.
The demons froze in alarm and quickly turned their blades toward the incoming threat.
Zhao collapsed, his strength finally giving out. Luo Han dashed to his side, catching his arm and asking anxiously, “Uncle Zhao, are you all right?”
Zhao shook his head weakly. “I'm fine. Go help him.”
Seeing that Zhao’s breath was steady and he was in no immediate danger, Luo Han turned and joined Ling Qingxiao in battle. Now fully recovered, Ling Qingxiao made short work of the two demons. He flicked his sword tip and searched their bodies, quickly finding two bamboo tubes matching the ones they’d taken earlier.
Luo Han frowned. “Same as the others. This is clearly organized. But what are they after?”